


The Schuyler Sisters

by lamstrash



Series: Schuyler Sisters Universe [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, Non-Binary Peggy, Sisterly Love, Trans Burr, Trans Eliza, all the schuyler children, even if there are only 10 at the end, non-binary Lafayette, there will be 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamstrash/pseuds/lamstrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Angelica Schuyler is fed up with people asking if she and her sisters are adopted." A story about growing up in the Schuyler household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Schuyler Sisters

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, because I have absolutely no self control when it comes to Hamilton. This is not set in the same universe as the other stories in this series. Enjoy!

Angelica Schuyler is fed up with people asking if she and her sisters are adopted. The first time that she can recall it happening, she was kindergartner sharing with her new teacher the pictures of her summer vacation at the beach.

“These are my sisters!” she had proudly proclaimed, picking up one from the pile. It had all three of the young Schuylers in it—“The best one,” Catherine, her ma, had said after taking it—and Angelica had been very proud of it. The entire family had been on the trip, even Phillip Schuyler taking a break from campaigning to spend time with his wife and daughters. There’s Eliza working on a sand castle, a hint of redness creeping up on her pale skin displaying the first signs of a sunburn. Their dad would immediately reapply her sunscreen after the picture was done. Then, there’s baby Margarita who had just learned how to talk, babbling and digging into the sand to create a very misshapen moat but getting more sand into her wild curls and mouth than anywhere else. And then, there’s Angelica, taking up most of the picture as she stands and smiles widely into the camera. Her parents had laughed because there was a stripe of lightness on her skin where her bathing suit had been eschewed, and it showed like another strap against her dark skin. Her dad told her not to worry; if she gave it a few hours, the strap would match the rest of her again. All of this the five-year-old Angelica explained to her new teacher while the other children played during their free time. However, when the teacher went to make comments, none of them were what she expected.

“So both of your sisters are adopted, or just one?” the teacher had asked.

“Adopted?” Angelica had never heard that word before. “What does that mean?”

The teacher had looked at Angelica as if she had said too much, before seeming to make up her mind. “Usually, babies come from out of your mommy’s tummy. Adopted means that your sisters and/or brothers or maybe even you didn’t come out of your mommy’s tummy, even if she and your daddy are raising you.”

Angelica thought for a minute. “I don’t remember if my sisters came out of my mommy’s tummy or not.”

“Maybe they didn’t,” the teacher shrugged before noticing the time. Standing up, she calls the class into order, but Angelica cannot get the idea of being adopted out of her mind.

Her ma came to pick her up from school that day and, as she buckled Angelica in her seat, asked how her first day of school was. Angelica said, “Mrs. Greenway says that Eliza and Margarita didn’t come from Ma’s tummy.”

Her Ma inhaled sharply, looking at Angelica with the look usually reserved for whenever the girl did something wrong. Angelica curled down into her seat.

“Your teacher told you that?” Ma asked.

“Umm,” Angelica said, “I think she used another word… adopted, I think. Is that bad? Am I in trouble?”

Her ma held her gaze for a minute longer before finishing the buckles and straightening up. “No, sweetie,” Ma said, “you’re not in trouble. But would you treat your sisters differently if they were adopted?”

Angelica thinks about it. She doesn’t like when Eliza takes her hair bows to use on her own hair without asking, or when Margarita puts her toys in her mouth and gets spit everywhere, or when either of her sisters follow her around the house like little puppies. But if Angelica wasn’t their big sister, who would stop Margarita from falling down the steps when she sneaks off in the house or from putting dangerous things in her mouth to see how they taste? And if Angelica wasn’t their big sister, then who would stick up for Eliza when kids called her a boy, and who would sneak out presents on birthdays and Christmas to change the name “Edward” to “Elizabeth” because adults are mean, too?

“No,” she replied. “I would still be their big sister.”

Ma nodded. “I want you to know that neither you nor your sisters are adopted. And had any of you been, you would still be sisters. I’m very proud of you, Angelica.”

That did make Angelica feel slightly better, but not by much when her parents begin to talk in whispers at home or when she finds out that she is being put in a different school after only a week. For all the trouble that the word “adopted” had caused her, the young Angelica Schuyler never wanted to hear it again.

But it kept happening, in every school where people saw her sisters, in every situation that put Angelica, Eliza, Peggy, or any combination of the three in the same setting. She began to notice the looks that people would give her dad if they were out with Eliza, or the looks they gave her and Peggy when they were out with their Ma. Eventually, she learned not to bring it up at dinner when someone claimed that the Schuylers couldn’t all _possibly_ be related, or when someone made a sly comment on one of them being the “black sheep” of the family. The stares only got worse when their Ma got pregnant again. As tired as she was of people’s ignorance at least this level of ignorance hadn’t crossed over into violence.

The first time Angelica got into a fight was the first time she ever saw Eliza with a black eye. At 13 and 12, respectively, Angelica and Eliza went to the same rich, snobby middle school, a fact that always made Margarita (Peggy, now) jealous, still being stuck in elementary. They had taken to meeting up during study hall to gossip and talk about their day. Eliza hadn’t been in the bathroom where they were supposed to meet after sneaking out of class—Eliza had started avoiding bathrooms, then, and Angelica should have known something was up. No, instead, Angelica had to find her out near the football field bleachers, staring into nothing with a split lip and an eye swollen almost shut. Angelica saw red.

“Who?” she couldn’t even get the full question out. Her mouth tasted like nickels, and her knuckles itched.

Eliza shrugged, hunching her shoulders in. She didn’t cry, but Angelica could feel despair dripping from every muscle in her sister’s body. She gathered Eliza into her arms and sat with her for more than two class periods before she could convince Eliza to be taken to the nurse’s office.

Angelica was able to sit through one class period by staring determinedly at the board and taking nothing in. When the bell rang, she dutifully packed her bags and left the class. Usually, she’d linger around, waiting for Eliza to find her but— She took a deep breath and hurried to her next class. Really, that’s the only reason why she even ran into the students in the first place.

“—thinks he can get away with using the girl’s bathroom because he wears a _dress_!”

Angelica stopped. The kids who were talking hadn’t noticed her, and she had a feeling she knew who they were talking about.

“Can you believe he was lurking around, too?” a girl said.

“Serves him right,” a boy replied. “We don’t need any creeps going here, even if they are those rich Schuyler kids.”

“What did you say?” The kids startled, and Angelica could distantly feel surprise at the fact that they heard her. There was so much blood rushing in her ears that she could barely hear herself.

Another girl in the group sneered got in her face. “What’s wrong? Don’t like hearing the truth?” When they were younger and tended to get into more physical fights, Catherine Schuyler taught her daughters breathing exercises to calm themselves down. Angelica did not even get to exhale before the girl said. “Fags like that don’t deserve to be around the rest of us.”

She might have blacked out, the space between the girl saying that and the same girl being on the ground, holding her mouth, is a blur. Her pulse is pounding in her temples, and around them, students are running. Towards or away, Angelica couldn’t tell.

She pulled the girl up by her hair and said, “Do you want to repeat what you just said? I don’t mind showing you the same hospitality you gave my sister.”

The boy from before shoved Angelica, making her drop the girl. “Leave my girlfriend alone!”

For this, Angelica was gladly present. The boy had tried to throw a punch at her, but it went wild and hit her shoulder. In response, she grabbed his arm before he could retract it and kneed him in the sensitive spot between his stomach and dick. The rest of the friend group had dispersed into the crowd of students cheering her on, but when she kicked the boy in the face for good measure, they got real silent. She stood, breathing heavily and feeling the ache settles nicely into her knuckles. There was a circle around them.

“Anyone else want a piece of a Schuyler sister?” she shouted. And no one said anything until the teachers broke through the crowd to escort her to the principal’s office.

Sitting in the office was a test of patience, from the office workers giving her disgusted looks as if she wasn’t _completely justified_ in taking those bullies down, to listening to the inane ticking of the wall clock as it counted down the seconds until her doom. And, at just a quarter to 2 when the front doors flew open, Catherine Schuyler did not disappoint.

“Angelica!” Her ma’s voice was like the bite of cold in the winter. “What were you thinking? Your father is gone on the campaign trail and I have the baby at home, so you decide you need to act out?” Angelica didn’t say anything in her defense as her ma continued to berate her in the office. She can see out of the corner of her eye the look of amusement the office workers were giving her, as if they enjoyed her to see the children they work with be humiliated. Angelica resolutely kept her head down; she wouldn’t give those people the satisfaction.

Then, as suddenly as her ma had begun to tear into her, she stopped. Angelica glanced up for the first time to see that Eliza had come out, backpack slung over her squared shoulders and face blank.

Catherine reassessed them both, Angelica’s knuckles and Eliza’s bruises, looked over the office, which suddenly seemed interested in doing actual work, and took a deep breath. In the spaces between her inhale and exhale, the temperature might have dropped a few degrees. Angelica balls her fists to keep them from shaking for the first time since her ma appeared, but Catherine does not address her daughters.

“I want a full report on why one of my daughters has a black eye and why the other felt compelled to fight for the first time in her school history.”

The office aids nodded timidly, cowering away from the woman’s fury as it focused in on them.

“Come girls,” she said, then, turning on her heel. “I’m taking you home.”

The drive home was quiet, oppressive as Angelica and Eliza waited for their ma to say anything. But Catherine Schuyler was silent all the way home, and when they got into the house, she went into her room, phone in hand. Eliza wandered into her room, and Angelica went to go get ice from the kitchen. By the time Peggy got home, they had successfully got the swelling around Eliza’s eye down. Their ma hadn’t come out of her room, yet.

Peggy asked a thousand and one questions, fretted over Eliza until the older sister grew exasperated enough to push her away. Instead, Angelica convinced her to write out their homework for them (which Peggy did after icing Angelica’s swollen fingers, a pain she hadn’t noticed before). Right around the time of dinner, their mother knocked on the bedroom door.

“Peggy,” she said, opening the door with the baby on her hip, “do you mind watching PJ for me?”

“Sure, Ma,” Peggy replied, taking the baby from her.

Then, their ma turned to the other two. “Angelica, Eliza, will you join me downstairs?”

All three girls shared a look, Peggy looking extremely put out, before Eliza and Angelica trailed out into the living room. Their ma took the armchair, so the girls took the couch opposite from her.

“I talked to your father,” she said, “and we both agreed that we don’t condone violence in this household.” Angelica felt anger rise in her, swift, and she was in the midst of getting to her feet to argue when her mother held up a hand. Reluctantly, she settled back into her seat. “We’ve never raised you girls to fight,” their ma continued, “but we’ve also raised you to defend your siblings. If we had to choose between which rule we want you to live by, your siblings always come first.”

Both girls released a sigh of relief. “But what’s gonna happen now?” Eliza asked.

Their ma got up from her seat and walked around to stand in front of them. There, she reached out and traced the darkening bruise on Eliza’s eye. “Well,” she replied, “your father and I have agreed to sign you up for self-defense classes. Both of you,” she added, looking at Angelica.

“I’m not complaining,” Angelica said, and Eliza shrugged.

So they began their classes, and when Peggy came out, not a month later, as non-binary, their parents didn’t hesitate to put them in classes, too. Before long, all three could throw a punch without risk of breaking a knuckle. Angelica escaped suspension from the school, on account of the Schuyler name, but they still gave her a detention that wouldn’t show up on her records. After her dad got a hold of the bullies’ parents, the kids transferred out to another school. A lot of the students gave the Schuylers a wide berth, but when Angelica graduated, they forget themselves. By the time Eliza joined Angelica in high school, the most common bruise on Eliza’s person was split knuckles. No one touched Peggy in middle school.

High school was a much better ordeal. Angelica made a lot of friends and became top of her class, and when Eliza came, only a few people questioned why the Asian freshman and the popular, Black would-be-valedictorian upperclassman claimed to be sisters. Eliza made a lot of friends, too, on account of how tooth-rottingly nice she was, and Angelica only had to threaten one on account of them being shitty about Peggy being non-binary. By the time Peggy became a freshmen, Angelica and Eliza were so well liked that their reputation trickled down to them. And by the time she graduated, Angelica truly felt as if her sisters would be able to survive on their own.

Of course, Peggy cried. For as long as any of them could remember, they had never been without the other. Even with the army of siblings their parents seemed determined to have—PJ quickly joined by John, Cathy, and the twins on the way—the three eldest were the most inseparable. The Schuyler Sisters. Truth be told, at least Peggy and Eliza still had each other. Angelica wasn’t sure, at first, how she was going to survive on her own without those two constantly at her side, but her first year was made easy by the friends she made.

There was Aaron Burr during move-in day with whom she bonded with after finding out that he was transgender and a really great source on LGBT+ and ally spaces, along with something knowing everything there was to know about the Gender Studies major at King’s College. They had somewhat of a flirty relationship with each other, but Angelica wasn’t blind to the love-struck look he started giving his phone halfway through the year when receiving certain texts.

There was Thomas Jefferson and the Marquis de Lafayette whom Angelica met in French class. While at first, it seemed like Thomas was the more extravagant of the two, Angelica came to learn that Lafayette was just as flamboyant and ridiculous in their daily interactions. Turned out, they went to high school together and maybe briefly dated, but neither would confirm. All three end up attending Spectrum meetings together.

Then there was most definitely John Church on the floor below who Angelica was beginning to become more acquainted with, but that’s a story for another time. By the time Eliza was packing her stuff to move in to King’s College, Angelica had created a niche for herself. And despite the fact that her sisters visited her often enough on campus—often enough to navigate their way around with her, at least—it wasn’t the same as living together. With Eliza moving in, it almost felt like home.

“Angelica!” Eliza shouts when she sees her.

“Eliza!” Angelica replies, meeting her halfway in an embrace.

Next is Peggy who joins the sisters’ hug with misty eyes as if they hadn’t seen Angelica in years. Angelica ruffles their hair, coos about how grown they look like a typical embarrassing big sister, and leaves them alone when they’re red enough to match their hair tie.

Finally, Angelica’s ma and dad get a hold of her, asking her about classes she choose, last summer’s internship—she got to go to the UK!—and her new roommate assignment. She chats with them happily as they move Eliza’s stuff into her dorm, reliving the best parts (working with the women from the international refugee organization), the worst parts (no A/C in England), and even the embarrassing bits (getting lost on public transit as a _New Yorker_ ). When she mentions some of the new foods she tried, Peggy steals her away, and it is sometime in the next hour that she comes to three realizations. 1) Eliza’s room is both unpacked and orderly, giving space for her roommate whenever she shows up. 2) Their ma looks exhausted, courtesy of baby #10 on the way, which means that they will probably be leaving soon. And 3) Eliza is nowhere to be found in the room.

When Angelica asks, her dad tells her that Eliza had gone down the hall to the vending machine, she feels a tickle of worry, but casts it aside. Passing or not, it’s only a move-in day; no one would probably recognize Eliza later to pick fights. When Angelica finds an out-of-order vending machine and no Eliza, she begins to feel the first signs of panic. And five sweeps down different halls of the building, after sixteen unanswered texts to her sister, when Angelica finally finds Eliza surrounded by three guys, all angry, her mind blanks because it’s only her first day here and _already_ something has come up and nothing good has ever come from angry men around her baby sister and if they _hurt her_ —

One of the men, taller than any of his other companions, says something. He and another laugh cruelly but the last, the shortest, tenses, fists balled at his side. But before she can even reach where they are, he turns and punches the tall one in his mouth. Eliza presses into the wall behind her, and Angelica finds that she, herself, has even taken an unconscious step back. The tall one goes down, and when the short guy turns to the remaining man, he grabs his friend and flees down the hall. Angelica doesn’t know what has just occurred, and neither does Eliza by the way she continues to stare dazedly after her would-be attackers. It is only when the remaining man grips Eliza’s hand and begins to drag her in the opposite direction does Angelica remember herself.

“Hey!” she shouts. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Both Eliza and the man freeze, but the man is tensed as if preparing for another fight. He even puts himself between Eliza and Angelica in a somewhat protective stance. “Who are you?”

Angelica draws herself to her full height, not willing to be intimidated by anyone, especially not someone who might be threatening her sister. “Angelica Schuyler.”

"Schuyler?" he asks, turning towards Eliza questioningly.  
  
"My sister," Eliza responds before sidestepping the man and throwing herself into Angelica's arms.  
  
Angelica catches her and turns so that she is now the one curled protectively around her sister, but the man seems to have deflated in the time it has taken Eliza to cross between them. She braces for the inevitable confusion, the inquisition on how the "Asian girl" could possibly be related to her. The man just looks at them with knowing, even when he couldn't possibly know anything. "And who are you?" Angelica asks testily.  
  
The man looks first at Eliza and then to her again. "Alexander Hamilton," he says, "or Alex, if you want."  
  
Angelica doesn't want, even if he is somewhat cute, because she can't shake the image of this man, fist striking out with dangerous accuracy or the sharp crack that accompanied it or the cold look in his eyes as it all happened. Even as he seems to revert back into someone normal, sweet and a little shy, Angelica cannot relax with someone so dangerous so close to one of her sisters.  
  
"Alex helped me," Eliza explains.  
  
"Why?" she asks.  
  
Alex seems to puff up a little in agitation. "Those guys were being assholes, and Eliza's too sweet to tell them off herself."  
  
He doesn't hesitate over Eliza's name or her pronouns at all, and Angelica can feel herself relax just a little. “Alex doesn’t believe that I can fight.” Eliza says with a roll of her eyes.

Angelica remembers middle school when she would bandage Eliza’s knuckles and Peggy would write out her homework because Eliza was incapable. “Well,” Angelica says, squeezing her little sister a little tighter, “You shouldn’t have to.”

Alex makes a noise of agreement and seems on the verge of saying more when his phone chimes in his pocket. He pulls it out, makes a face, and then looks up at them apologetically. “I would offer to make sure that you ladies made it back to your rooms okay after that,” he gestured to where the other men had fled, “but my roommate has apparently locked himself out of our room in a towel and requires immediate assistance.”

“That’s alright,” Angelica says, “I think we’ve got it from here, thank you.”

“It was nice meeting you, Alex,” Eliza says. “And I’m sorry it had to be in the worst possible way ever, but thank you.”

“If it takes making a few enemies on my first day of college for us to meet,” he says with a charming smile, “it will have been worth it.” Then he steps back with a little bow and heads down the hallway.

Angelica did not realize that she was holding her breath until Eliza lets out a dreamy sigh. “I think I like this one,” she says, looking up at Angelica.

“Me too,” she replies. Maybe college won’t be so bad on her sisters after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Queerverse AU


End file.
